


Starbucks Boy

by thekitgregoryblog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Cute Ending, Cutesy, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Shy Steve Rogers, Starbucks, Steve Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekitgregoryblog/pseuds/thekitgregoryblog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a crush on the new man-bun wearing barista at Starbucks, and finally builds up the courage to talk to him. Sort of.</p>
<p>Pure fluff and cute times between my two favorite dorks :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starbucks Boy

Steve’s been to Starbucks three times today.

 And not just to any old Starbucks but specifically this one, so he’s pretty sure that he could be classified as a stalker by now. Okay, maybe not a stalker, but at least an avid customer who likes to stand behind the almost scarily organized displays of mugs and sneak looks at the cute barista who works there. 

Steve had appropriately dubbed him Starbucks Boy. Until he figured out what his name was, of course.

Currently, he was taking refuge behind a group of teenage girls huddled around the latest editions of tumblers to come into the store, and trying not to wince every time one of them shrieked in delight as she showed a friend her favorite design. A few of them walked up to the counter to purchase some, and giggled as the barista turned to them, earning themselves an amused but gorgeous smile. Fuck, that _smile_. Steve swore his knees turned to jelly every time he saw it. It didn’t even matter if it wasn’t directed at him, just seeing it made his heart race, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep them from shaking. 

_Okay, you can do this_. Taking a deep breath, Steve steps out from behind the mass of girls and takes a spot in line. He swallows, already feeling like he wants to piss himself as he recites his order over and over again in his head. Hazelnut Latte, with an extra shot. It’s what he’s been getting ever since he started going to Starbucks, but this was the first time that he was going to be giving his order to _him_. And he hoped to God that maybe his shit public speaking abilities could magically disappear for those few moments. 

The line shortens a person and Steve realizes there’s only three people ahead of him. He recites his order again. Two people. Fuck, he might vomit all over the tiled floor. The cling of the cash register sounds and there’s only one person left. Shit, fucking _shit_. 

“Alrighty, what can I get started for you?”

Steve looks up from his feet and Starbucks Boy is grinning at him.

He fucking _forgets_ how to _breathe_.

“Um…coffee?” Steve stumbles around the words as he focuses his gaze on the menu hanging on the wall behind Starbucks Boy’s head to avoid looking him in the eye. From that angle, Steve has a pretty good view of the man-bun Starbucks Boy is wearing his hair in and he notices a few curls starting to fight their way loose. God fucking damn it.

Starbucks Boy lets out a little laugh. “Good thing we have plenty of that. Any specific drink for ya?”

Even his laugh is gorgeous. It takes Steve a few moments to recover, stuttering out, “Uh, a latte, please-HAZELNUT latte, sorry. With, um, an extra shot of…um…” No no no, he can’t be blanking. He grapples at the words muddled in his brain and stands there looking like an idiot as he tries to find the right one. 

“Espresso?” Starbucks Boy raises an eyebrow, looking amused.

Steve relaxes and lets out a sigh that he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Yes, espresso.” He could already feel his cheeks flaming from the spectacle he had just created. Social Anxiety: 1, Steve: 0.

Starbucks Boy grabs a white cup from a stack sitting on top of the counter and scribbles Steve’s order into the appropriate boxes as Steve digs into his back pocket for his wallet. He’s just about to open it when Starbucks Boy asks him, “What’s your name?”

Steve freezes in place. Starbucks Boy wants to know his name. He flushes again when he realizes that it’s only to put his name on the cup, but still, it’s hard to ignore the flutter running rampant in his stomach. 

“Uh, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers.” He makes a face when his last name escapes his lips. They don’t put last names on cups, god, he fucking knows that.

 Starbucks Boy only smiles. “Steve Rogers. Got it.” He sets the cup gently on the bar, and then presses a few buttons on the cash register. “That’ll be $4.75.” 

Steve tugs a five dollar bill from his wallet and places it in Starbucks Boy’s open palm, his fingers brushing against his skin for a fraction of a second. The contact spurs a tingling sensation up the length of Steve’s arm and he involuntarily shivers. Thank God Starbucks Boy doesn’t seem to notice.

Steve takes his change while looking at the floor and hurries over to wait with a few other customers for his drink, his heart thumping against his rib cage quite painfully. Self consciously, he lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against his cheek to see how badly he’s blushing. It feels pretty damn warm and he resists the urge to curse. He can’t believe he made such a fool of himself, especially when he was trying so hard not to screw this up. It’s not like he’s this big shot when it comes to picking up guys, but he was hoping that for once he wouldn’t be completely hopeless. Steve shakes his head. There was no way Starbucks Boy was going to fall for him anyway. He probably isn’t even into men.

Stuffing his hands back in his pockets, Steve makes a beeline for the exit, apologizing the people he has to sidestep around. He’s pushing open the door and getting ready to make a break for his bike (that not to mention he probably parked illegally and feels really bad about it) when he hears a familiar voice call out to him. “Steve, wait!”

Steve flips back around and there he is, Starbucks Boy in the flesh stepping out from behind the counter and walking over to him. This is the moment where Steve thinks that he’s got to be dreaming because there’s no way in real life that Starbucks Boy knows he exists. Well, besides the fact that he’s a customer. Steve almost expects him to get down on one knee and break out into a rendition of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love with you, a favorite of song of Steve’s that the dream sequence Starbucks Boy would somehow know already by heart. 

“You almost left without this.” Starbucks Boy holds out the white cup to him and summoning up some courage, Steve looks at him straight on. His eyes are a pretty grayish blue and they crinkle at the corners when Steve’s gaze meets his. 

“Right… Thanks.” Steve manages to say, his voice shaking with the nervous energy he still has left in his system. Starbucks Boy nods and hits him with that smile before walking back towards the register. Steve blushes but doesn’t forget to notice how nice Starbucks Boy’s ass is as he walks away. 

Turning away, Steve pushes open the door and winces as the cold November air bites at his face. It doesn’t help with him feeling more like an idiot now than ever. Lifting the cup up to his lips, he leans against the outside wall of the building and takes a long sip. It only takes him a few minutes to finish his drink, being the caffeine addict he is, and as he tilts the cup upwards to get the last few bits to dibble onto his tongue, something catches his eye. A scribble?

Steve holds the cup at eye level and studies the marking, discovering it’s mostly covered up by the cup sleeve. After he removes it, the first thing he comprehends is a pattern of numbers. A phone number.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Starbucks Boy gave him his fucking phone number. Steve’s about to jump for joy or do a back flip or something he’s so happy, but before he gets the chance, he notices that the phone number wasn’t the only message written on the cup. 

_‘Next time, order the Chestnut Praline Latte. It’s my favorite :) -Bucky’_

Steve grins. So that’s his name. Bucky. Not a name you hear everyday, but just the sound of it made Steve’s stomach fill with butterflies. 

Maybe he wasn’t so hopeless after all.


End file.
